Intertwined: A Redemption Novel

by Sasha Brümmer

  “Yes. We’ll be closed for those two weeks, and I’ll need you to send out an email to all of the members, informing them of the plans.”

  I glance at my watch before looking up at him. “If you say so, boss man.”

  “Fuck off with that. This will get us more business because we’ll be able to house an additional eighty people without violating any fire codes.”

  I bite the corner of my lip and nod in agreement. “I’m just . . .”

  “What? Hesitant to close so quickly?”

  “Hell no. I’m just not sure where I want to go on vacation.” I give him a warm smile and lean over the bar top to tousle his effortlessly styled hair.

  He shakes his head at me and picks up his whiskey tumbler, taking a sip before pointing to the blueprint. “I’ll be redoing your office as well.”

  “You’re what?”

  “You heard me, Isla. I believe that it can be upgraded.”

  “Well then, go ahead and don’t let me hold you back. You won’t find me complaining for a second.”

  “As I thought,” he says before finishing off his whiskey and checking the time on his Rolex. “I need to get going.”

  “All right. I’ll send out that email now and post about the expansion online as well.”

  “Thank you,” he says as he stands to his full height and comes around the bar to wrap me in his arms, placing an innocent kiss on top of my head. I hold him close for a few seconds before letting go and patting his chest.

  “I’ll see you soon. Maybe you and Hadley should go on vacation with me as well.”

  “Possibly . . . but that would mean that Liam would be going as well.”

  “You seriously need to get over this jealousy or resentment . . . whatever you want to call it that you have been carrying around about him. He’s just fucking around, and you know that he would not now or ever purposely go after your woman—your wife. I won’t stand by and watch you two burn away years of friendship. It would also leave me in limbo between the two of you, and I refuse to go to that place again.”

  “You have a point. I’ll talk to Hads about it and consider it.”

  “Thank you, Brass, for everything.”

  “You’re welcome, Isla. I’ll call you this evening.”

  “Bye,” I call out to his back as he leaves through the front door and gets into the waiting BMW with Jacobs in the driver’s seat.

  I slide my hand along the bar top as I make my way into my office to send out the email informing our paying members of the expansion.

  When I finally make it home, it’s well past four in the morning, and I’m beyond exhausted. In addition to the typical bar work, we had to move some of the important and confidential crap out of my office, cover up the majority of the library’s furnishings, and store the whiskeys. It feels like I had to move out of my damn apartment. It took every librarian I had on staff to get it done, and now all I want to do is crash in my bed and curl up under the comforter.

  Liam isn’t in my loft when I get home, and disappointment causes my entire body to sag. I should not, no matter what the reason, be this down about Liam-fucking-Jensen, but here I am. Sulking.

  Damn it.

  Instead of heading to bed, I go to the fridge and decide to make bacon and pancakes before I pass out. I ate dinner at Blended, but it feels like I haven’t eaten in over a decade.

  By the time I’ve made and eaten more pancakes than I can count, and I’ve cleaned up the kitchen, it’s almost five. Yet there’s still no sign of Liam. I force my mind to think about something other than him either talking about sex or having sex with someone besides myself. When I get into bed, it doesn’t take me long until I’m passed out and dreaming of Liam’s hard appendage hitting me deeply.

  A sound echoes through the loft, causing me to stir and push the comforter off of my top half. I force the sleep to leave my eyes as they adjust to the light coming from my windows.

  “Liam?” I ask, but there’s no response. I move my feet off of the bed and stand up, throwing my arms into the air and stretching before checking the time. It’s almost noon. I take a few steps but pause when I get lightheaded. I reach my arms out and grip onto the door frame in an attempt to steady myself, but it doesn’t help.

  A burning wave of warmth moves up my throat, and I haul my body into the bathroom just in time to reach the toilet. Holy shit. I blame the whiskey we drank last night when we were moving things around, or maybe even the pancake batter.

  I decide on a shower once I’ve calmed down enough to get back up onto my feet and make my way to the other side of the bathroom.

  By the time I emerge I’m feeling a tad better, but something still doesn’t feel right. My phone chimes and I make my way across the bedroom with a towel wrapped around myself. When I unlock the screen, a text from Wade awaits me: Get packing. We’re leaving in three hours.

  I frown at the message and type back to him: Leaving? What are you talking about?

  I watch the dots move on the screen as I wait for his reply: You told me that you wanted a vacation, and I’m obliging you. Hadley’s excited to get out of the city.

  Can I ask where we are going?

  Yes. Iceland.

  I stare at the screen and close the message application and then reopen it to make sure that I’m not reading anything incorrectly. Maybe I have a fever?

  I read over the short pair of words three more times before I type out a response to him.

  What? Are you serious? Brass, that’s ridiculous.

  Not ridiculous. Start packing. Jacobs will be picking you up in two hours.

  I cannot help the slight smile that takes over as I give him a simple reply: Thank you.

  Two hours pass, and I’ve packed two large bags with clothing that I doubt I’ll need, but I’m unsure of what to expect or how long a trip it will be. I could have called Brass and asked him, but that would have taken away precious time to pack. I’m hauling the second suitcase down the loft’s flight of stairs before I realize that Liam has yet to show up.

  I frown at the thought, hoping that nothing tragic has come of his random disappearance. Once I’ve gotten all of my shit together there’s a knock on the door, and I answer in hopes of it being Liam, but Colin Jacobs gives me a tilt of his head in greeting. “Afternoon, Miss Madden.”

  “Jacobs, how many times have I asked you over the years to call me Isla?”

  “Countless, ma’am,” he says, his Southern roots making themselves known.

  Shaking my head in admonishment, I lock the door behind me before following behind him with my purse as he takes both of my bags and leads us to the elevator bank. While we wait for an elevator to arrive, I shoot off a quick text to Liam: Hey, I’m leaving with Brass for a couple of days. You have my extra key. I’ll see you when I get back.

  When we arrive at the airport, Jacobs pulls through a security gate and onto the tarmac where Wade’s jet awaits. I haven’t heard back from Liam, and I’m honestly more than a little concerned.

  “Colin?”

  He must hear the concern in my voice because he says, “Is everything all right?”

  “I’m not entirely sure. I haven’t heard from Liam in a while.”

  I see him smile in the rearview mirror before he tries to hide it. “I’m sure that he’s well.”

  I huff out a breath, swinging the door open when the BMW comes to a stop, and get out. I turn my head and throw a wave at Jacobs. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll get your luggage loaded.”

  “Thanks.”

  I know that I’m being curt, but I’m just peeved right now, and no number of smiles is going to curb my mood.

  I head up the stairs to the jet, checking my phone one last time, hoping for a text from Liam, but there’s nothing there. I’m scrolling through my social media feeds, thinking I might see something with him mentioned in it when I walk into the cabin.

  “It’s about damn time you showed up, doll.”

 
My head shoots up as I lock eyes with Liam’s. I swear that my heart starts to beat too hard to the point that it might be beating backward, and I may pass out right here.

  “You asshole,” I say as I walk toward him and push his shoulder. He has the audacity to look wounded at my nudge.

  “What? I heard that you were a little concerned for my well-being.”

  “Fuck you,” I spit at him and take a seat on the other side of the aisle from him.

  “Ah, feisty. Just the way I like you.”

  I turn my shoulder to him as I set my travel purse on the seat beside me and buckle up, choosing to ignore the ignorant dickweed.

  “Ouch. The cold shoulder?”

  I turn to him, and I cannot help the emotion that rolls off of my tongue. “I thought you were dead, so excuse me for caring enough to possibly do something about it.”

  “Yeah? By doing what? Leaving the country?”

  I ignore his little dig as I reply, “Where were you and where’s my best friend?” I ask, referring to Wade.

  “Another dig, doll? I won’t pretend that one didn’t hurt. Hadley had to stop and get the two of you some girly shit before arriving. To answer your first question, I was with Wade. After you and I had spoken about the tension between the two of us—Wade and I—I decided that I needed to do something about it. We spent the majority of the evening speaking and hashing out shit before diving into his whiskey stash when we apparently booked this vacation for the four of us. Seemingly drunk Brass and Jensen had plans.”

  “This was your idea?”

  “It was ours,” Wade says as he walks into the cabin with Hadley in front of him.

  “Seriously? We’re going because the two of you got too drunk to function, and this is how it ended up?”

  “Yeah, pretty much,” Liam says, and Hadley leans over to hug me.

  “Hey. They were up all night, and I’m not entirely sure how they are not still drunk.”

  “Assholes,” I say and roll my eyes. I should never be this worried about him. The first thing that I wanted to do when I saw him was to throw my arms around his neck and breathe him in with the knowledge that he’s all right, but that’s wrong on so many levels. I chose to ignore that initial instinct and opted to go with the one that followed it: bitter irritation.

  I’m never this emotional, and the only thing that would make any logical sense is that my monthly crimson cockblocker is on its way. I frown at the thought and pull my phone out, clicking on the calendar application and scrolling back to the last time I had my period.

  No.

  Nope.

  Oh no, no, no.

  This cannot be happening. I take in a deeper breath than needed and lean my head back on the headrest. I shut my eyes and start counting the days that I’ve missed.

  I’m two weeks late. Fourteen days. Surely that means absolutely nothing. I blow out a long breath as a hand settles on top of mine.

  “What’s going on?” Wade asks, but I decide to answer with a shake of my head rather than trusting my words.

  “He didn’t mean to upset you, Isla.”

  “It’s not . . . I’m fine. I’m just tired. We were at Blended for a lot longer than usual.”

  I doubt that he buys my excuse; he typically sees straight through me when I’m lying, but for now he lets it go and takes a seat opposite me and next to Hadley.

  I close my eyes and pull my knees up to my chest, curling up on the plush seat as I start to count how late I am again. I decide at this moment to keep this little worry to myself instead of causing this entire vacation to go up in flames . . . at least until I can confirm or deny it.

  I don’t know how long I was asleep, but when I wake up, Liam is beside me in the adjacent seat. Wade and Hadley must have retired to the private bedroom in the back. It’s just over a six-hour flight, and I have no idea how long I’ve been out.

  I shift and unbuckle before reaching into my purse for my phone. Finding it, I unlock the screen to check the time, figuring that we’ve only been in the air for three hours. When I lean back in my seat and glance over at Liam, he’s watching me.

  “What?” I mumble.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I shift uncomfortably. He has me considering moving to the other side of the cabin. As much as I was worried about him and wanted to be sure that he was okay, I feel the need to get away from him now.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say and turn into the seat, trying to get comfortable again as I recline it. I refuse to give up my seat now that I’ve gotten comfortable. He’s the one who needs to move.

  “Isla.”

  I force my eyes to close as I think about being sick this morning, and the outlandish amount of food that I consumed last night and the couple of days before that. My heart sinks at the thought of how much alcohol I’ve consumed in the last couple of days, and I’m suddenly begging for this not to happen.

  “Doll?”

  “What?” I ask him softly.

  “Speak to me?”

  “I’ve got nothing for you.”

  “Listen,” he says as he reaches out and places his hand on my thigh, “I should have told you what was going on.”

  “No. I have no right to know anything about you or what you do, Liam. Just please drop it. I’m worn out.”

  “You have more right than most people to know about me, Isla. If anything, I owe it to you for helping me make this move.”

  “Liam, please. Just . . . stop talking.”

  His hand lifts off of my thigh, and a shiver runs through me at the loss of warmth his palm provided me.

  I know that I’m being a bitch, but I just need to sleep off this nightmare until I can prove that my suspicion is wrong. It has to be because if the cards fall in a certain way, there’s no getting out of it.

  This cannot happen, I repeat to myself. Especially not with my best friend—a man who my feelings have grown for, but a man who is in no way interested in pursuing anything even remotely serious, let alone having someone rely on him.

  Shit, having two people rely on him.

  This is not me. I’m not this needy woman who needs a man to depend on. I’ve always been independent and quick to realize that I’m all that I need. I’ve always been someone who has sought respect and not the attention of others who are not going to give me security in life. I think that I was designed to be alone because I’m selfish, and I don’t accept help well, especially after the period of time in padded cells. Most men want to offer their women the world, but I’ve always had my own.

  Wade once told me a few years back that I’m feared. I remember asking him why, and he told me that it’s because I require no validation in life . . . because I don’t need anyone. I didn’t understand him then, but now it makes sense. Men are intimidated by women who without any men’s help are able to achieve the life they dream of living. I have no attachments, and frankly, attachments equal weaknesses and are the cause of suffering.

  A tear leaks down my cheek, and I allow the next couple following it to fall before I squeeze my eyes shut tighter and will myself to fall asleep again.

  I refuse to be scared to walk alone, regardless of what I’m put up against. Irrespective of that, though, I’m terrified of what my future now holds.

  We flew into Keflavik International Airport and drove thirty minutes to the resort where we’ll be staying for the next week and some change. I’ve been ignored by Isla for the entire drive, and the only time she showed the slightest bit of emotion is when we arrived at the Blue Lagoon Geothermal Spa. The milky blue water seemed to put her in a trance by its otherworldly appearance.

  As we head toward the hotel, I reach over and take her hand in mine. Instead of refusing, she allows me to lace my fingers through hers. I keep our hands between our thighs in hopes of not drawing attention to the fact that I’m allowing this display in front of Wade.

  She looks at me before attempting to pull her hand out of mine, but I tighten my fingers around hers, keeping her in place
. I know that I’ve upset her, but she should essentially be over it by now. My eyes meet Wade’s as he glances up at me from my and Isla’s intertwined hands, but he doesn’t say a thing. He simply gives me a questioning look.

  The vehicle comes to a stop, and I almost thank the heavens. I’ve got nothing to prove, but I need to make sure that she’s all right. I need to figure out what is holding her back from enjoying the early stages of this vacation.

  I open the door, and let go of her hand before getting out and stretching. The cool temperature takes me off guard, so I lower my arms and slide each into my leather jacket. I knew that it would be colder than what I’ve slowly been getting used to in Chicago, but I didn’t think that I’d almost freeze my nuts off.

  As I reach out for her, I watch Isla retreat from me; I stare at her, pleading with her to tell me what is going on in her head. The two of us fall into step behind Brass and Hadley into the hotel’s lobby. We’ll be staying at the Silica Hotel, which is set in the heart of this lava landscape and is a mere ten-minute walk to the spa.

  The hotel is modern with a minimal decor, and the view from my room has got to be award winning. On one side of the hotel, there are rooms facing the lava landscape, and on the other side of the hallway, the rooms face the milky blue waters of the hot springs. I scored the room with the milky blue views, and Isla has one across the hall from me with the lava field vista.

  When Wade and I booked the place, we reserved two rooms, but Isla was insistent on having her own room, which leads me to think that there is more to what’s going on than her simply being peeved at me.

  We have all retired to our rooms for the remainder of the evening, but I have not been able to close my eyes, seeing as it’s about ten in Chicago and three here in Iceland. I decide to head out to the hot springs instead of sitting around in the room awaiting the sunrise. I change into my swim trunks, then pull on a sweater and sweatpants before venturing out into the cold of the night.

  I take steady steps on the wooden walkway that leads to the hot springs and undress, tossing my sweats on the lounger before immersing myself in the warm waters of the Blue Lagoon.